


A Renewed Life, Not Only A Dream

by sleepy_anon (r1ver_styxx)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alexis | Quackity-centric, Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), For the ship tag, Heartbeats, Implied Cannibalism, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Necromancy, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Alexis | Quackity, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ver_styxx/pseuds/sleepy_anon
Summary: Quackity gets his hands on Dream's book. Maybe this will finally restore peace to the nation.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	A Renewed Life, Not Only A Dream

With a sigh, Quackity looked down at the book in his shaking hands, swiping dust off of the cover and rubbing his thumb along the written name of his ex-husband. A wobbly smile came onto his face as he chuckled, letting himself fall back onto the wall behind him and slide down the cool surface. 

"Nice to see you again,  _ mi amor." _ He said, genuine, but with a tinge of bitterness in his tone that rang no less true than the twisted love that dripped off of his words like poison.

Knees to his chest, he delicately opened the book, pages soft against hands calloused from wielding weapons and building structures that were, admittedly, less than aesthetically pleasing. 

Quackity had stopped putting as much effort into his builds since the White House was torn down.

Beautifully planned and meticulously built prototype models of structures and their blueprints laid abandoned in the corner of his house, in favor of sporadically built huts- if he didn't just throw down a cot and call it a night. 

Functionality mattered more, now that he had actual work to do, that wasn't just signing his name over and over. If not his own, he would have been forging Schlatt's, working late into the night's chilling and uncomfortable embrace to bear both workloads.

In his head, he passed it off as an act of kindness, an act of service to his lover, lessening the work the president had to do, sacrificing his own sleep and health instead. 

He did this for the younger cabinet members as well- though, it was more out of pity that they were thrown into politics at their age. He wanted them to have a childhood not spent sitting at bland, cut-and-paste desks in bland, cut-and-paste offices, dressed in stuffy suits.

Everything in his body shaking with adrenaline, he felt like he might drop the book if he wasn’t careful. Despite this sentiment, though, his hands tightened around the book’s leather covers, mumbling the words contained inside. That’s all it was. It was a simple spell- written in the same cryptic language inscribed on enchantment tables. He didn’t even know Schlatt knew how to write in that language.

Then again, he didn’t know Schlatt knew how to  _ bring people back from the dead, _ either.

_ “This will not be the last I hear from you, _

_ you once promised us forever.” _

Quackity spoke, his words as unsure as his hands, his voice sounding foreign to him as he spoke in an accent he barely understood. His heart clenched, seizing for a brief moment as the second line in the poem rolled off of his tongue, and sent a deep pang to his chest recalling his and Schlatt’s history.

_ “A renewed life, _

_ not only a dream,” _

It got harder for him to speak the words, he didn’t want to open his mouth-  _ drowning, _ is what it felt like. But in what? He was above water, there was nowhere to swim.  _ Nowhere to swim. Nowhere to go up. Nowhere to get air. _

...He shook his head, pushing forward past the nonsense feelings.

_ “Ties between you and death shall now sever.” _

As the hybrid practically gargled the last word, he dropped the book- involuntarily, he realized- as if it had forced him to let go of it. Like somebody had screamed at him to put it down, like he’d done something wrong.

When he whipped his head around, there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

When he turned back to face forward again, there was.

“...The fuck are you doing, Alex?”

  
  
_ Alex _ froze.

Schlatt did not.

Schlatt stepped forwards, looking down at the book on the floor, masking his confusion very well for the situation. He looked almost as if he was expecting it- He was just as put together and in control of the scenario as Alex had remembered him being able to be.

Alex noticed Schlatt had a hand over his chest. Then noticed he was mimicking the action.

_Ba-bump._

_Ba-bump._

_Ba-bump._

_Ba-bump._

The heartbeat  _ Schlatt  _ felt.

It was **certainly** not his own.


End file.
